The Stars Above Us
by highland laurel
Summary: This is a prequel to "Not In Our Stars" providing a backstory to the relationship between John Murray and Talota. Explains boyhood of Caramingo and Taramingo.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

(John)

John Murray's orders were a disappointment. The red-haired son of Lord

Dunsmore sat despondently in the library of the big booming house. In his hand was a snifter of his father's best brandy. His lieutenant's red coat fit his body well, accenting his tall frame with its well tailored lines. He was considered a handsome man. His future wife, Levina Louise Wilson, simpered whenever anyone mentioned that fact to her. Though not officially engaged, there was an understanding between both fathers that their children would marry when John returned from his required duty in the colonies.

The lieutenant sighed as he thought again of the assignment and the reason for his semi-banishment. He had always been near the top of his class at Oxford and excelled in the mathematics courses. He performed well in all his endeavors at the Royal Military Academy. Therefore he should have been assured a comfortable assignment.

But he had not taken it seriously when Percy Williams challenged him to a duel over a supposed slight to Percy's father. Percy had always been an awkward young man, a poor student and poor soldier. John chose swords as the weapon to settle the requirements of honor never thinking that Percy would accept.

After a particularly wild slash from Percy, John parried the blow and his upper blade caught the other man in the throat. The wound was deep and Percy Williams bled to death. Both witnesses signed sworn statements that the fatal blow had been the result of an accident but the young lieutenant knew that being sent to survey western Virginia was a punishment nevertheless.

As the alcohol coursed through his system a feeling of warm forgetfulness settled over his mind. His coppery red head leaned back in the chair and he began to doze. An irritating voice intruded on the sleepy warmth and John's mind acknowledged the arrival of his intended. Joseph knocked discreetly, then pulled open the sliding doors into the library. Levina Louise Wilson, her pale skinny father and tall big-boned mother entered and immediately she began to scold her intended fiance.

"An appointment to the colonies!" Her voice rose to a screech and John Murray clenched his hands to prevent himself from holding his ears in pain. "What a disgrace! I am ashamed to show my face! You must refuse. You must demand another assignment. You are the son of Lord Dunsmore. The crown needs your support. They must realize how dishonorable your placement is! John, you must protest this treatment or you will be thought of as weak and subservient."

Gritting his teeth, John Murray walked to Levina and took her right hand, pressing his lips to the back in the required gesture of respect. He nodded to her father and mother, then replied to her demands. "Miss Levina, I am a servant of the crown. The King sends me where he needs me to go. I always obey my king, as I am sure that you do Sir Wilson. Surely you do not counsel me to refuse my duty?" His light blue eyes displayed only a desire to obey his king.

Levina's own light blue eyes displayed their usual expression of selfishness as she thought about his words. Perhaps he was right. A few years in the colonies, then he would return and she would be the next Lady Dunsmore. The thought caused her tight lips to lift in a greedy smile. John Murray saw the smile, understood perfectly, and irreverently thought that with luck in his absence some other greedy man would snatch his intended for himself.

Sir Wilson's mind was spinning as he composed a different plan. "John, before you sail, you could wed Levina. Then when you return you would already have a loving wife waiting." The older man's eyes shone with the same greed that lit his daughter's.

Beneath the red officer's coat John Murray's heart skipped a beat in terror. Thinking rapidly, the young man replied. "Sir, that is a noble offer. But I would not want Levina to miss the wedding that she deserves. It will take months to plan, I am certain, and I would never deprive her of that joy. Or her mother either. It is enough to know that she waits for my return."

Turning to Levina, John again took her cool hand and kissed it. He looked into her light eyes, his own carefully bland. "Miss Levina, I will return to England. This is my home. I will do my duty to the crown and then accept my duty as your husband. Though the time may seem long now, I am certain that it will pass more quickly than you imagine." Inside his heart he cringed at the same thought. Releasing her hand, he opened the sliding library doors for his guests to depart. Joseph showed them to the door, and when the heavy outer door closed John Murray poured himself another large snifter of brandy and continued to brood in the dark quiet room.

(Talota)

Talota was the daughter of the chief, and from early childhood she knew that her duty was to serve as her father saw fit. When she grew into a beautiful young woman she was captured by the son of a Creek chief to cement an alliance. Her refusal would serve only her own selfish purpose and her acceptance would benefit her entire tribe. She knew where her duty lay and she accepted that duty. Just past her fifteenth birthday and a slim young woman with great dark eyes, her new husband delighted in his good fortune.

Their union produced a son within the first year of their marriage. Then increased pressure from the neighboring tribes kept the Creeks in constant turmoil. Her husband was a superior warrior, well respected and acknowledged as a leader. In that capacity he took many risks, and in one brutal encounter after another won battle honors that elevated him in the eyes of his people.

Talota was given the respect due one whose husband was an extraordinary warrior. Their young son Taramingo felt his father's honors personally and went about the encampment with a haughty expression unusual in one only five years old. Talota corrected his behavior vigilantly but her husband, proud of his own accomplishments, encouraged his son's prideful behavior.

Tragedy struck with the iron trader tip of a Shawnee arrow. Talota's high rank fell with her husband's body, and Taramingo lost his best guide into the world of a Creek warrior. Bitterly the boy grieved for his father, both as parent and mentor. Though only five years old he keenly felt the loss of position and also felt a bitter desire for revenge.

Talota worried that her young son was becoming hardened beyond his years and his Creek relatives encouraged the boy's brutal attitude. A small cadre of other boys followed Taramingo's wild example as they practiced their hunting and battle skills. To diffuse her son's twisted outlook she decided to return to her own people where she hoped that her brothers could mentor her troubled son and help him recover a measure of temperance.

Taramingo resisted his mother's decision, even going so far as to run away from the encampment. Talota enlisted two of Taramingo's peers to track him and return him. They convinced him that his mother had stopped looking and returned to her people. When Taramingo discovered the ruse he attacked the other two boys and broke one boy's arm in his fury.

Talota firmly disciplined her unruly son and tied him onto the pack horse loaded with their belongings. Without a backward glance she and her son left the Creek village. She was going home, her heart singing in joy but shadowed by her son's rebellious nature.

Welcomed home by both her brothers, Talota moved her tortured son into a lodge near her oldest brother Menewa who had assumed the position of chief upon the death of their father. Wise beyond his years and patient by nature, Menewa tried to fill the boy's need for a strong father.

But the child would not accept his uncle's affection or mentoring and continued to behave as brutally as before. Talota took Taramingo with her everywhere, not trusting him to be in camp when she returned. She also hoped that by keeping him near her he would lose some of his fury and feelings of deprivation. She laughed and sang to him, told him Cherokee stories and playfully teased him. But the boy remained stoically aloof from all her efforts. In the long dark hours of the night the young mother racked her mind for ways to lift the heavy burden from her only son.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

(John)

The sea voyage was relatively easy and pleasant. John Murray spent most of the time alone in his small stateroom, reading and reviewing his orders until the paper wore thin and the ink smudged. He could not escape the feeling that he was being exiled and he feared that his position in English society was jeopardized by the death of Percy Williams. His devious mind struggled to find a way to worm his way back into the good graces of his father and his peers. Short of outright dishonesty almost any other track was acceptable.

He lay long hours thinking of ways to advance himself. He couldn't help but admit that marrying Lavina Louise Wilson would do just that. Though a shallow and grasping young woman she did possess the carefully learned persona of a gracious hostess. Many among John's peers considered her a beautiful and accomplished woman. And on the surface she was just that.

There were always other women. That thought comforted the young man as he lay on his bunk through the long dark hours. John Murray was a lusty youth with few scruples when it came to his own pleasures. Hedonistic by nature and nurtured by a society that expected dalliance without outrightly encouraging it,

John was always game to try new experiences.

He had been a favorite among the "companions" that frequented Oxford's nearby dark alleys. His capacity for debauchery was legendary among his schoolmates. Though his father and mother did not approve they did nothing to interfere. Their son was behaving as most sons of privilege behaved, as the elder Murray had also behaved at the same age.

The young second mate was nearly the same age as John and the youth watched his passenger with hooded eyes. Christopher Dary came from a working class background and had advanced himself by his own brains and hard work. Signing on as a cabin boy at age twelve, Chris Dary sailed back and forth from England to the Americas twice a year.

He loved the sea and enjoyed the hard work. He dreamed of some day becoming a captain and owning his own ship. When not on duty the quiet young man read everything that he could about navigation and the history of seamanship. His captain encouraged his learning and a deep bond formed between the youth and the grey-haired man.

It was natural that the two young men would seek each other's company. After his duties were completed Chris often met John for a game of chess below decks. Though John was a more knowledgeable player Chris was more careful and often won the matches. John's naturally competitive nature chafed at these humiliations but he did nothing to improve his attention. Naturally Chris continued to win match after match. Finally John angrily threw the chessboard over the side, depriving the young second mate of his favorite diversion. From then on the two young men had little to say to each other, and Chris was very glad to see his nemesis depart _The Sea Siren_ in Philadelphia.

Before reporting to the garrison in the thriving colonial capital John Murray wandered down the brick streets, looking in shops and watching the passing citizens. He spent the night drinking with a young street walker and reported to the garrison commander before noon on the following day. The commander took the tattered paper from the young lieutenant's shaky hands and inhaled the odor of stale alcohol rising from the youth's stained red coat. Frowning in disapproval he called for his orderly, intending to put the swaying young man on report for a variety of violations.

Then he noticed the name: John Murray. This disordered youth was the next Lord Dunsmore. Sighing in resignation, weary from long years of dealing with sons of the privileged, the commander instructed the orderly to find a place for the lieutenant and help him ready himself to complete his orders. The orderly saluted, John Murray tried to do the same, and the two left the office as the commander watched in disgust.

Two days later Lieutenant Murray and one native guide, two privates, three mules, and three packloads of equipment and supplies left the cultured city behind them and began the long journey to the Virginia colony. There John Murray would report to the commander in Williamsburg, spend the winter drinking and diverting himself with a variety of willing partners, and climb over the mountains into the wilderness of Kentucky in the late spring of the following year. Thus far his time in exile had not been overly unpleasant.

(Talota)

Talota was finished gathering the wild turnips. She had several large tubers in the sack slung over her shoulder. Taramingo had successfully caught a half-dozen fish from the small nearby river while he was waiting for his mother. Now together they were returning to the village a short mile away. The afternoon sun was behind them as they walked and the tree shadows were cool on this hot mid-summer day. Talota was as silent as her son as they walked slowly through the trees.

Taramingo remained a sullen and troublesome child. Now approaching his seventh birthday, he was a tall and slender boy. Bitterness and disappointment dominated his childish heart. The only enjoyment that he had was listening to his mother tell stories as they lay in their beds each night. A feeling close to security and acceptance washed over him in those moments, and he always felt comforted as he drifted into sleep, his hand clasped in his mother's.

Talota struggled to find a way to tell her angry son that she was considering taking a Cherokee widower in marriage. Menewa encouraged the match, anxious to see his nephew lose the bitter expression that dominated his face. The marriage would be a good one, not as advantageous as Talota's marriage to the Creek chief's son but acceptable and safe. Talota herself felt that a man's influence in the lodge would help Taramingo lose his feelings of despair and anger at the loss of his position.

The mother and son walked through a sunlit clearing. Suddenly they became aware of the sounds made by someone coming through the forest before them. Frozen in surprise, Talota held Taramingo's hand tightly. A tall man with red hair entered the clearing, followed by three more men and three pack mules. Dressed in buckskin trousers and a blue cotton shirt, John Murray's red eyebrows lifted in greeting. He raised his hand and the men behind him stopped.

Talota and Taramingo remained where they stood. The tall man gestured behind his back and another of the men came forward. This man was dressed entirely in buckskins and spoke halting Cherokee words to Talota. She listened until the words stopped, then replied slowly and carefully. These men wanted her to take them to Menewa. Several minutes she stood looking into the blue eyes of the leader. Then she nodded her head and walked purposefully across the clearing with the four men behind her.

John Murray and Menewa spoke for hours through the interpreter, a Choctaw who had been captured as a youth by a British patrol years before. Not fluent in Cherokee, the man was nevertheless able to follow Menewa's words closely enough to understand his position.

Though leery of permitting a party of white men in his territory, Menewa did finally agree to allow them to survey the area that made up his home. The Cherokee tribe had allied themselves to the British crown years before when the first parties crossed the mountains from Virginia and the Carolinas. Former leaders had believed that it was wiser to allow a few whites to travel unmolested than risk facing them in conflict. Menewa unhappily decided to follow the same course.

The four travelers were shown a pretty glade near the village where they could erect an encampment. Soon four white tents bloomed in the moonlight. The tired men bedded down, their stomachs full from the venison stew provided by their hosts. John Murray lay on his back staring at the shadows formed by the nearby forest. His mind was remembering the slender woman who had shown them the way to the village. She had the most beautiful eyes that he had ever seen. Her heart-shaped face was framed by heavy black hair, her body supple and shapely. The little boy at her side seemed unlike her in every way. All the way back to the village the boy glared at the lieutenant, his eyes transmitting hate. Tired from his journey, John sighed and closed his eyes in sleep.

He awakened with the morning light and lifted the tent flap to look out on the bright summer morning. All around the village Cherokee women were bent over cooking fires and the welcome odors of stewing meat wafted through the heavy air. Near the chief's lodge John could see the woman that he had met yesterday stirring a streaming pot. Boldly he approached her. When she glanced up at him, he smiled in a way calculated to show his friendly intent. There was little about John Murray that was genuine.

"That smells good," he said to the tall Indian woman. Her eyes displayed only puzzlement as the English words carried no meaning for her. John rubbed his flat stomach and said "Mmmmm." Her pretty face lighted with a smile as she understood. Bending as she turned, she passed through the lodge door and returned with a clay bowl. She filled the bowl with the stew and extended it to the British officer. Tipping the bowl to his lips, the lieutenant drank the broth and spooned the meat chunks into his mouth. He ate two full bowls, then bowed as he returned the bowl to Talota. She smiled and nodded.

The other three men appeared and were also given bowls of stew. John Murray remained near Talota, sitting on the ground before the large lodge. He enjoyed watching her as she moved to stir the stew or fill the bowls. He was aware that his presence was causing the young woman some disquiet and he smiled to himself. It had been many weeks since he slept beside a woman. Now it seemed that the long hiatus was about to end.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

(Talota)

Talota accompanied her aunt, her sisters-in-law and her niece to the nearby river to wash. They removed their soft buckskin dresses and sat in the cool water. They soaped their bodies and hair, then lay back and allowed the current to wash them clean. The warm sun dried them quickly and they walked back to the village, laughing and happy with the cool, clean feeling.

Talota looked around for her son and found him sitting in the shade of the lodge with his knife in his hand. Something was on the ground before him. Her heart suddenly beginning to pound, Talota silently walked to see what it was. It was a mouse, its tiny mouth open in its last gasps, it's little body mutilated. Taramingo had staked it to the ground with thorns from the locust trees. The suffering little creature looked into Talota's eyes and gave one last little squeal of agony as the boy's knife point pricked its body. Then it quivered and died. Talota stood still in horror as an expression of cruel delight lit her son's face. She swallowed and turned to run into the nearby woods. She needed to be alone to calm her churning stomach and aching heart.

She returned just at sundown. Walking with her head down and her eyes turned inward, she didn't see John Murray as he approached her. Talota walked right into him. When she staggered from the impact, he reached out both arms to steady her. His touch sent a wave of electricity through her, unexpected and unwelcome. She dodged around him and continued swiftly walking to her lodge. John watched her bend gracefully and enter.

He smiled at her reaction. He had felt the current that flowed between them and believed that very soon he would be beside her through the short summer nights. And as the winter approached she would give him a warm bed in which to pass the long hours of darkness. At the thought, a deep red flush spread over his ruddy face. He walked into his tent and drew a bottle of brandy from his pack. Pouring a large amount into his tin cup, he drank the wine and thought of the lovely Cherokee woman.

Taramingo was not in the lodge. Talota ducked back under the door covering and began to search the village for her son. Her brother Menewa saw her agitated behavior and strode to her side. Looking into his face, Talota asked about Taramingo. Menewa stood looking down into his sister's anxious eyes and frowned.

"Sister, your son troubles you too much. His bitterness spills into your heart. He is in need of a father. A strong man would willingly accept your hand in marriage. Why do you delay?"

Talota proudly answered, "Brother, I married as I was asked to do many years ago. I have the right to choose my husband, is this not so? Before I bind myself to a man I wish to be certain that he is the one I seek. This is my right. Do you disagree?"

Menewa saw the spark of anger in his sister's eyes. He sighed and replied in a quiet voice. "You have that right. I was thinking of the boy only. He is growing as a twisted branch grows. He will cause damage just as a twisted branch harms the tree. You know this. He will not accept my guidance; I have tried. It is nearly time for him to begin his training. You have little time, sister."

Talota dropped her head onto her chest. She knew Menewa was right. Taramingo's heart was darker than her brother knew. She must find a way to lighten her son's heart or he would be lost to her, and to her people. She trembled with her fear and Menewa frowned again. He gently placed his hand on her arm. She closed her eyes. Two tears sparkled on her black lashes. She squeezed his hand and pulled free. She nodded her head and turned to her own lodge, passing into its dark recesses to sit alone on her bed, the tears running silently down her pretty face.

(John)

Every day John and his party of surveyors left Menewa's village and plotted the land within easy walking distance. Each evening they returned to their tent city, prepared a meal and ate it, then sat around the fire telling stories. The two privates, Todd Maclean and Benjamin Travis, were good friends and much alike. John Murray was as different from them as day is from night. Choctaw Charlie kept apart from the others, comfortable with neither group. His tent was several yards apart from the other three. Feeling unwelcome in the Cherokee village, he retired early every night and did not reappear until daylight.

John Murray spent hours every night walking through the beautiful Kentucky countryside. He had never been receptive to nature's gifts while in England, seeing trees and flowers only as an extension of the manicured lawns kept trimmed by his gardeners.

Here he was aware of the various colors and textures as he had never been. Clouds took fantastic shapes that he had never before seen. The wild birds and animals contributed variety to the experience. He was changing without being aware of the process. The natural world around him was creeping into his heart and blooming there.

Coming back into the camp late one night he happened to see a figure at the edge of the woods. He silently drew his pistol from his belt and stood quietly. The figure had not seen him. There was no moon and he had seen the figure only because of the light buckskin clothing. As the person approached he could tell that it was a woman. He watched her as she silently moved through the Kentucky night. When she was less than ten yards away he recognized her as the chief's sister. She seemed distressed. Every line of her body was pulled tight.

He cleared his throat to make her aware of his presence and she jumped at the sound. She had her knife in her hand instantly. John spoke softly as he replaced his pistol in his belt. "Don't be afraid. I didn't want to startle you."

She stood still before him trying to puzzle out his words. He stepped closer to her and then noticed that her face was streaked with tears. A feeling of unfamiliar compassion washed over him and he reached out to touch her cheek. She allowed the touch, closing her eyes as she caught her breath in a sob. John drew her into his arms and held her close. She remained stiff but did not pull away. After a few seconds she pulled back and he released her. Behind him John could hear footsteps. As he turned he saw Menewa, his face taut with anger.

Stepping around the tall Englishman, Menewa grasped Talota's arm and pulled her after him. John could hear his words, full of anger and dismay. The English lieutenant watched the man and woman until they disappeared into a large lodge. Puzzling at the empty feeling of his arms, John Murray entered his own tent and drank his nightly glass of brandy, then laid down on his cot and let his mind remember the feel of her warm body against him.

(Talota)

Tsula frowned as Talota shook her head. He was angry at the tall woman's refusal. He did not understand her reluctance. Menewa had given him reason to believe that his sister was ready to accept him. With wounded pride the middle-aged warrior spun on his heel and pushed his way through the forest undergrowth.

Talota sighed deeply. She knew that Menewa had arranged for the "surprise" meeting, knowing that his sister was digging wild onions. Within her heart she struggled to find the reason for her refusal. Her first marriage held few truly happy memories. Perhaps that was the reason for her reluctance to remarry.

Lost in thought, Talota wandered deeper into the forest. She topped a rise and in the distance through the trees could see the English survey party mapping a half-mile to the west. Even at the distance she could make out the leader because of his height and his burnished coppery hair. The sun made the bright locks gleam. Engrossed in watching the unusual man she did not hear Menewa approaching behind her. He stood for several minutes behind Talota, watching her as she gazed into the valley before them.

"Sister," Menewa spoke softly. Talota started and turned to face him, her eyes blank and her expression carefully guarded. "Why do you refuse Tsula? He is a proud man and you have ended all chance of being his wife. Why?"

"I do not answer to you, my brother. My reasons are my own."

Menewa stood looking into his sister's downcast face. He did not understand her position and did not try. Though he loved his sister he did not trouble himself about her reasons. He sighed in disgust and turned back to the village. There he took his bow and arrows and walked swiftly into the woods, his anger driving him to seek solitude away from his pressing duties. His sister was on her own. He would not offer assistance again.

Talota walked slowly back to her lodge and prepared the onions to dry for winter use. While she was so engaged Taramingo stalked into the village. He strode to his mother's lodge, not speaking as he passed her. She caught his look, full of disdain and disrespect. Quick tears stung her eyes and her heart constricted within her chest. She was losing the battle for her son's soul, she knew it and was seriously wounded by the knowledge. Deep in her heart she was dying. The struggle was taking all joy from her life. As she strung the onions the sharp odor stung her eyes and the tears fell unheeded from her beautiful dark eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

(John)

The colonel that led the expeditionary force was seated in John's tent reviewing the work completed during the summer months. He nodded his acceptance and congratulated the young lieutenant on a job well done. John Murray sighed softly and relaxed. Perhaps his exile was nearing its end.

The thought unexpectedly caused a jab of fear. He would be returning to Lavina Louise and her grasping family, his demanding parents and the clipped and orderly world of privileged England. His mind was so engaged he did not hear the colonel's next words. Blushing at his mistake, he asked the colonel to repeat his words. Frowning in impatience, the man complied.

"I said that you have done a very credible job here, Murray. I will communicate the fact to our superiors in Williamsburg upon my arrival back at the capital. You are to remain here until you receive further orders. I will leave some supplies with you, but you seem to be making out quite well. You are positively glowing with health. Perhaps a tour in the wilderness should be part of every soldier's duty."

John nodded at his superior. The colonel rose as John stood and saluted. The colonel ducked under the tent flap and stood in the brisk autumn wind. The real reason for his journey was now to be accomplished. "I must speak to the man in charge of this village now. Which one is he, Murray?"

"Menewa, sir. I will take you to him if you wish."

The colonel nodded and the two men walked the three hundred yards to Menewa's lodge. There John spoke a few words to the dignified Cherokee, then went to find Choctaw Charlie. He returned several minutes later with the Indian in tow, left him at Menewa's lodge, then wandered slowly through the camp. The inhabitants nodded to him as he passed, some in friendship and some in politeness. Back at his tent the young officer poured himself the last of his brandy and lay back on his cot to contemplate his unexpected reaction to the thought of returning to England.

(Talota)

Menewa's summons surprised Talota. She and Taramingo had argued several hours ago and the furious boy stormed out of the lodge and disappeared into the forest. Menewa saw the last exchange as he stood outside his lodge with a British colonel. He stared several seconds at his sister shaking in anger, then turned wordlessly and ducked back into his lodge. Now he wanted to speak to her. Talota swallowed nervously and walked the short distance to Menewa's lodge.

As she entered Menewa beckoned her to his side. He was alone, his wife Tsisqua having been sent to her family's lodge so that he could speak to Talota. She could tell that he was troubled. Expecting him to speak of the argument with Taramingo, she was not at all prepared for his words.

"Sister, the redcoat colonel asks for an alliance. Some of our enemies to the north and along the Ohio are befriending their enemies, the French. He tells me that the officer, the one with the red hair, is to stay the winter with us here. The colonel wishes him to learn our language and our ways. In your lodge this can be done. It is my wish that this be done. Do you refuse, my sister?"

Menewa's eyes were carefully guarded. He knew that Talota had the right to refuse. But as leader Menewa's request carried much weight and he knew Talota understood duty above all other things. At the look in Talota's eyes he cringed deep inside but kept his face smooth and his eyes retained the power of command.

"I ask tonight to consider, my brother." Talota's voice was totally expressionless and again Menewa flinched in his heart. But though he loved his sister he knew that women were valuable assets in cementing alliances. And as leader it was his duty to provide for his people to the best of his ability no matter how it was done. In return for assistance to the surveyor and alliance to the British Menewa's Cherokee people would be given guns, powder, lead shot, iron pots, cloth and trinkets.

Nodding in agreement, Menewa dismissed Talota with a wave of his hand. She turned and walked silently from his lodge. Entering her own, she sat unmoving on her bed through the hours of the night contemplating her choices, her duty to her people and her fear for her son. As the soft light of autumn dawn filtered into her lodge she made her decision to honor Menewa's wish. Taramingo would rebel, she was sure. But the tall red-haired Englishman may be able to control her troubled son. Perhaps Taramingo would see him as a man worthy of respect. Sighing, Talota lay down and fell into a light, troubled sleep.

(John)

John Murray presented himself to Menewa as the stately chief demanded. The colonel had departed hours before and the young lieutenant couldn't imagine why the village leader wanted to see him. He stood outside the lodge confused as how to announce himself. Finally he simply ducked under the door covering and stood just inside the doorway. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. Before the small fire sat Menewa and the tall young woman that had brought him to the village months before.

Menewa rose and beckoned for Choctaw Charlie to come forward out of the shadows. He spoke slowly to the interpreter, all the time watching the young officer closely. When Charlie relayed Menewa's message John Murray rocked back on his heels in surprise. Then his light blue eyes fastened on the large dark eyes blankly gazing at him from the woman's pretty face.

Though not a sensitive man, he was aware that the woman did not instigate this offer of marriage. It was evident from his body language that Menewa wished this union. His mind quickly remembered the colonel's meeting with the chief yesterday. This offer must be the result of that meeting. John shifted uncomfortably and swallowed. The silence was becoming deafening.

Should he accept? It was evident that the colonel wished this union and the Cherokee leader did likewise. It must have to do with politics. Probably the chief had been offered many trade goods to accept this arrangement. But why? His silence was angering the chief, he could see it in the man's eyes. He might be feeling insulted. Quickly John turned to Choctaw Charlie and spoke. "Sir, I would like this night to think about your offer. Is that permitted?"

As soon as Charlie translated the words Menewa nodded three times and gestured for the young man to leave. Bowing from the waist John Murray did as he was directed. His mind blank, he walked the distance back to his tent and entered. Then he carefully sat on his cot to think.

Should he accept this offer? In his time spent with the Cherokee people he found them to be moral, clean and happy. The young woman pleased him from the start. Normally he would take such a gift without a moment's hesitation. But was this some kind of test? Were his superiors investigating his character in some way? Was she a bribe?

And then his mind traveled a new path. So what if she was? If this was some kind of test devised by Sir Wilson or Colonel Watson, what would be the result of his making the choice to accept the offer? He would be judged unsuitable as a husband for Lavina Louise. Perhaps this was the chance he'd been seeking to release himself from the arrangement made with Sir Wilson. His parents would be furious. But in the end, what could anyone do to him? He was the rightful heir to the Lordship. Nothing would change that. Smiling, he stretched full length on the narrow cot and allowed his mind to imagine the long winter nights with the lovely Cherokee woman beside him. And suddenly his decision was made.

At dusk the next day John Murray entered Talota's lodge awkwardly. He was carrying his last load of clothes and personal belongings. He laid his burden down beside the pile of belongings already in Talota's lodge. A small fire burned against the autumn chill. Talota had a bowl filled with venison stew all ready for him. Taking it from her hand he sat on the ground and ate the hot meat. He glanced at the narrow bed and the rush of blood caused him to shift on the ground uncomfortably. He raised the bowl of stew to his lips to cover his deep blush.

Talota carefully smoothed the deer hides that covered the bed. Then she sat down on the bed and bowed her head, waiting. Taramingo's little cot was gone. He was in Menewa's lodge, his hot anger burning too brightly to stay in the same cabin with the hated Englishman. His heart swelled with embarrassment at his mother's dishonor. Deep in his mind he determined to run to his own people as soon as he could get away. There he knew that he would find the acceptance and honor that he so deeply craved.

As she grieved for her son Talota was unaware of the man in her lodge. He had finished the meal and was standing before her awkwardly. Though a man of vast experience, John was feeling strangely ill at ease. He reached out his right hand and smoothed her raven black hair. When she did not respond he cupped his hand under her chin and raised her face. Her blank eyes disturbed him more than he expected. But the feel of her warm brown skin excited him and his hands dropped to her shoulders. She lay back on the willow frame bed and allowed him to do as he wished.

When he was asleep she rose and left the cabin to pace the night away deep in the woods. The marriage ceremony had been correct and she was his wife according to Cherokee tradition. She determined to do her duty as she had agreed to do. Duty was very familiar to Talota, the daughter and sister of the chief. But she could not stop the tears that trickled down her soft brown cheeks as she thought of all the empty days and nights to come.

Then she lifted her head proudly. She decided to make the tall red-haired man the best wife that he could have. She may be a political pawn, but she did not have to be bitter. Her decision filled her heart with lightness. The hard stony crust that had been forming cracked and slipped away. Smiling for the first time in many days, Talota lightly slipped into her lodge and lay down beside the pale-skinned sleeping man. He stirred in his sleep and she drew the deer hide over his body and lay warmly next to his side.

Waking in the first light of morning John felt the warmth beside him and raised on his elbow to look down into his wife's sleeping face. She was a very pretty woman. He lay congratulating himself on accepting her. In one action he had fulfilled the expectations of his superior, the Cherokee chief, and himself. His thoughts turned to Lavina Louise. It was quite possible that he could still return to England and wed her.

Perhaps this Indian woman was not a test after all. Maybe she was a present to reward him for his good work. His heavy lips lifted in a self-satisfied smile. The ceremony he endured the day before held no meaning for him. There was no reason at all that he could not marry Lavina in a few years, fulfill his parents' expectations, and set himself up to advance rapidly through English society and perhaps become a favorite of the King. He chuckled softly to himself as he envisioned his future.

Beside him Talota awakened and slipped out of the bed. She pulled her dress over her head and slid her feet inside her moccasins. Then she bent and passed out of the cabin. John lay stretching beneath the soft deer hides. Being married was certainly going to make his life much, much more pleasant. Again his lips lifted in a self-satisfied smile as he drifted back into a sound sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Kentucky winter was full upon the land. Deep snow piled against the Cherokee lodges. Most evenings Talota and John joined Talota's family in Menewa's large lodge to tell family stories and make implements to use during the next planting and harvesting season. The Cold Moon Dance had been recently held and the entire village had begun anew as new hearth fires were kindled.

John Murray watched tolerantly as each new ritural was performed. He often wore an expression of amusement which pricked Menewa uncomfortably. But since it had been his request that caused Talota to accept the Englishman he swallowed his ire and said nothing.

The marriage seemed to be working tolerably well. Talota did not seem unduly stressed and John was usually smiling his self-satisfied smile. He had an odd habit of caressing his own hands, throat and body. This gesture galled Menewa. It implied such a heightened sense of self-love that he couldn't help but be concerned about his sister.

By the time of the Medicine Dance Menewa's concern had intensified. Talota seemed pale and without her customary vigor. When the Windy Moon was full he decided to question his sister. Though not a brother's rightful place to do so, their mother was dead so Menewa sent his wife Tsisqua to Talota's lodge one day as the late winter light faded from the bare treetops.

Tsisqua returned in the space of one hour and silently sat beside Menewa as he ate his meal of roasted rabbit and corn cakes. Her face was bland and Menewa's heart stirred suspiciously. He turned to his silent wife and asked the question.

"What troubles my sister Talota?"

Tsisqua looked into her husband's eyes and replied, "A trouble that will ease by the Trading Moon, my husband." Her dark eyes began to sparkle in fun.

In his mind Menewa pondered her strange answer. Then he became aware of the time span she had mentioned. A child. Talota was carrying the white man's child. How soon she had conceived! Menewa felt a twinge of jealousy. Tsisqua had been his wife for ten years and they had no child. Before his wife could surmise the direction of his thoughts he controlled his expression. As he nodded Talota and John entered his lodge for the usual evening fellowship.

The customary self-satisfied smile on John Murray's face irritated Menewa even more as he thought of his own childless state. He rose in agitation and left the lodge. Talota exchanged a long look with Tsisqua. Then she folded her long legs beneath her body and began a story about the beginning of the world. Inside her slim body the growing child floated, sharing her blood, her life.

As the winter passed into spring John learned a simple Cherokee vocabulary but seldom used it. He spoke English to Talota and expected her to learn the language. Being of above average intelligence and very verbal, she quickly learned a multitude of English words. Taramingo seldom stayed in her lodge, hating the very sight of her English husband. She missed the boy terribly but admitted that he was better off in his uncle's lodge.

Though Menewa was greatly concerned about the boy's strange fascination with pain and death he tried to teach him all that a Cherokee warrior needed. Taramingo paid little attention, making no secret of his belief that Cherokee were greatly inferior to his father's people, the Creeks. This attitude caused much friction between the boy and his uncle but Menewa gritted his teeth and continued to try for Talota's sake.

The spring and summer flew by quickly. John was often away for weeks at a time, surveying farther and farther out into the Kentucky wilderness to the west. When he was in Talota's lodge he was fascinated by his wife's swelling belly. The thought that he had fathered a child caused him to feel both proud and uneasy.

He had never completely shaken the thought that Talota may be a test of his character. And having a child with an Indian woman may make his superiors look upon his swift return to England in a negative light. One night his troubled mind even produced a dream in which he saw himself strangle the sleeping infant. He awoke sweating in the summer heat, his heart pounding. He walked outside for a long hour until Todd Maclean was wakened and came to ask his commander if he was ill.

John was away when Talota's labor began on the first day of the Trading Moon. She labored for only three hours before she was delivered of another son. Drenched in sweat and pale from blood loss and pain, Talota held the squirming child against her breast. Tsisqua and her sisters treated the baby with cleansing smoke and washed his little body.

Then they helped the trembling young woman to her bed and laid the crying child beside her. She nursed him tenderly, smoothing his damp black hair and dimpled little cheeks. He tugged at her breast and fed hungrily. He was strong and bore an uncanny resemblance to his brother Taramingo. Hours later Menewa came into her lodge to see the sleeping infant. His sister opened her tired eyes and smiled at her brother.

"I have named him Caramingo. What do you say, brother?"

Menewa looked silently at the baby, then reached to hold the child in his strong arms. The baby mewed like a panther kitten. Menewa smiled and closed his eyes, saying the blessing prayers for his new nephew. When he finished he continued to hold the baby whose eyes were now focusing on his own. The baby was alert and healthy.

Suddenly a face appeared by Menewa's shoulder. It was Taramingo, who had moved so quietly neither his mother or uncle had heard him enter. On his dark face was a look of pure hatred. Talota saw the expression and struggled to sit upright. She reached for the baby in a gesture of primal motherhood. Menewa handed the little boy to his sister and turned to face Taramingo. But the older boy was gone as silently as he had come.

Menewa looked a long time into Talota's troubled dark eyes. Unshed tears made them sparkle in the weak firelight. Menewa understood his sister's fear and knew immediately that she was correct in her assessment. Taramingo would try to kill his brother. Turning to hide his expression from his sister, Menewa congratulated her on her new son and left her lodge.

When John Murray returned two weeks later after the first snow Menewa stopped him before he entered his lodge. Taking his arm, the Cherokee man pulled him into his own lodge. There he tried to explain to the Englishman the danger that Taramingo posed to his new son.

But Menewa did not have the English words. All he could do was repeat the same word over and over: danger. John's frown deepened as his brother-in-law's agitation increased. After several minutes of fruitless communication John rose and left the lodge, striding quickly to the lodge he shared with Talota.

He pushed the heavy bear hide aside and saw Talota bending over her bed, no longer great with child. On the bed lay a squirming bundle. She straightened and held the baby out to her husband. John Murray slowly approached his Cherokee wife, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides.

He stood looking down at the baby's body. The child was long and slender, with black hair and dark eyes. He bore no resemblance to his English ancestors at all. Talota was anxiously watching her husband's reaction. When she saw no spark of affection, no tenderness, no acceptance, she gently laid the baby against her shoulder and held him lovingly.

Quick tears filled her eyes. Her mother's heart quivered with love for her helpless baby. Now she understood that she must protect the little one from both his brother's hatred and his father's indifference. Her spine stiffened with resolve. She was more than equal to the task. Proudly she lifted her well-formed head and laid her little son on her bed so that he was safely against the wall. Then she greeted her husband with pretended warmth.

He pulled her into his arms, then pushed her onto the bed. Careful not to fall upon the helpless baby, Talota lay pinned beneath her husband as he claimed his right to her body. She endured the pain, both in her body and in her soul. Beside her she could feel her son's little body, warm with life. She reached out and took his little hand as her husband continued to make his demands upon her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Four years passed in rapid succession. Caramingo grew into a loving little boy. His quick intelligence delighted his mother. She spent all her waking moments with him, teaching him songs and stories, playing happy little games. She smiled all day long and slept peacefully at night with his little hand held gently in her own. One day she found a beautiful speckled stone lying in the creek bed and with mock seriousness handed it to her little son, then splashed his little body playfully. He giggled unselfconsciously and splashed her in return.

The stone rested on the ledge of the window John had cut into the lodge. There the light could catch the sparkling bits of mica. Mingo invented a story about the mica, how the Creator struck a wicked member of the Paint Clan and shattered his sacred crystal into countless sparkles. The sparkles floated in the air until they came to rest on a sleeping rock. When the rock awoke and shook itself the sparkles floated into the creek and found the speckled stone. Deciding that the stone was deserving, they floated down and into the speckled rock. There they waited until Talota came to find them.

Whenever Mingo told his story Talota's eyes would sparkle like the bits of mica in the darkly speckled stone. The little boy would grin in delight at her reaction and throw his little arms around her neck. They giggled together as they shared their special memory.

Taramingo watced them from a distance, his hands clenched and his face frozen into a mask of hatred. To him it was evident that his mother preferred his insipid, mewling little brother to himself. She watched him very carefully so that the little boy was never alone. Only one time had there been an opportunity to kill the child, and Taramingo had botched the attempt.

The infant was sleeping inside the lodge while Talota and Tsisqua staked a deer hide to the ground to dry. The two women were talking and laughing together and did not see Taramingo slip silently into his mother's lodge. Approaching his mother's bed, the older boy wrinkled his nose in distaste as he beheld his brother asleep with two of his slender little fingers in his mouth.

Looking around the dwelling for something to use he spied John Murray's red coat carefully folded on a blanket. Taking the heavy garment in his hands, he stepped silently to the bed and leaned over the sleeping baby. Just as the red cloth came in contact with his face the baby awoke and looked steadily into his big brother's eyes.

Taramingo froze. The baby's level gaze unsettled the boy and he began to tremble in rage at his hesitation. Drawing a deep breath he again leaned over the helpless baby. Suddenly the red coat was jerked out of his hands by his mother. Her face flushed in anger and disgust, she raised her hand and slapped him as hard as she could.

Taramingo pushed her against the wall and ran out of the door. Tsisqua quickly entered the lodge and saw Talota sitting on the bed clutching her little son so hard that the baby was crying in pain. After that experience Talota never left the child alone again. Everywhere she went, Mingo went.

When John was in the lodge over the cold winter months the entire atmosphere of the lodge changed. He demanded instant obedience of his little son, holding him to a very high standard of behavior. The little boy quickly learned that this tall red-haired father had no laughter in him as his mother had. The boy's quick intelligence did please John Murray and from a very young age Mingo learned to speak, read and write English.

Sometimes when he was pleased more than usual John would tell stories about his youth in England. Occasionally he told Greek and Roman myths, or the legends of King Arthur. Often he read aloud from a collection of Shakespeare that he had brought from England years before. The little boy would sit close to his father, thrilling in the touch of the tall man's hand. In those few moments Mingo felt his father's affection. Lying in his own little cot late at night he held the feeling close in his heart. In those moments he could believe that his father loved him. He could believe that his father was proud of him.

One bright afternoon Taramingo suddenly appeared at his mother's elbow as she washed her family's clothes in the river. She started and looked up at his tall, thin body and aloof, handsome face. "Mother, I wish to take my brother into the deep place of the river and teach him to swim. Is this permitted?"

She stared at her son, thinking. The deep place was only a few yards from where she was. Surely Mingo would be safe with her so close. She nodded her head in agreement and called Mingo to her side. He was catching grasshoppers to use as bait. Menewa had promised that morning to take him fishing later in the evening. When Taramingo explained what he wanted to do Mingo released the grasshopper in his hand and skipped happily to the water.

Talota watched carefully as Taramingo stepped into the river and swam out a few feet. Mingo sat on the bank and eased himself into the shallow water near the edge. Taramingo reached out his hand to his brother. The trusting little boy took the hand and was pulled away from the bank. Talota stood to dash into the water if she needed. But Taramingo carefully held his brother and taught the little boy how to hold his body so that he could float alone.

Then Taramingo released his hold and Mingo floated several feet downstream with the current. The little boy laughed with joy and Talota relaxed. Taramingo watched his mother carefully. He understood her protective actions. Deep inside himself he laughed. His deception was working perfectly. If he could convince his mother that the vapid child was safe with him it would be simple to cause an "accident" that would kill him.

Several days in a row he asked his mother if he could take his brother and teach him various skills. Always he was careful to stay near his mother so that she could build up her trust in her older son. After two weeks of watchfulness Talota convinced herself that Taramingo had changed. She rejoiced that her two much-loved sons were growing so close. Taramingo even stayed in the lodge with them, sleeping on the floor beside his mother's bed.

Mingo reveled in his brother's company. He glowed with pride when his older brother praised his accomplishments and tried very hard to please. Finally when Talota let the two boys go hunting together Mingo pushed out his little chest and could barely contain his excitement. Taramingo carefully examined Mingo's bow and arrows to make sure they were correctly made. Then with a wave of his hand he and his little brother disappeared into the woods.

Talota anxiously watched the sun as it made its early autumn arc. When the evening approached and the two boys had not returned she went to her brother for advice. Menewa listened to her, then took his bow and arrows and strode through his lodge door in the direction the two had gone hours before. He returned only minutes later with the two boys and a large buck. Mingo was skipping beside the deer, holding onto its antlers possessively. Menewa's face was glowing with pleasure and Taramingo walked behind his brother with his usually taut face relaxed into a smile.

Talota ran to meet them. She hugged Mingo until the little boy pulled away breathlessly, then hugged Taramingo just as hard. When she released him her eyes were glowing in loving forgiveness. In his secret heart Taramingo knew that the time had come.

Mingo glowed for days and told his hunting story to anyone who would listen. Taramingo had shown him the tracks, they had followed the buck, Taramingo had pointed out the target and helped his little brother steady his bow. The arrow flew straight and true, hitting the buck in the throat. Taramingo's arrow hit the heart. The buck fell dead and the two boys dragged the carcass slowly through the woods toward the village. They stopped and ate their jerky by a little stream, then continued to pull the deer home. Menewa found them and carried the buck the rest of the way. The hide was now drying and Taramingo insisted that it be made into a costume for his little brother.

Talota's heart was at rest. It was obvious that Mingo's loving heart had turned Taramingo from his sadistic ways into a proud older brother. She smiled all day long and patted both her boys every time they came near. Mingo began to seek his brother's company and the two boys spent hours together every day.

Finally, on the last hot day of early autumn, Taramingo asked his mother if he could take his brother to the deep pool at the falls. A twinge of warning flashed through Talota's heart but the look on Taramingo's face disproved her suspicions. He was standing expectantly, his hands relaxed at his sides, his eyes shining as he anticipated the fun. Talota felt guilty at her suspicions and hid her eyes in embarrassment.

"Yes, you can do that. Have fun. Watch Mingo carefully, son. He is not nearly as good a swimmer as you. And he's not yet five years old."

"Yes, mother, I know. I will watch him carefully." The words somehow didn't sound the same as they had when Talota spoke them and the twinge of suspicion returned. She searched her son's eyes for several seconds, then blinked and waved her hand in farewell. Five minutes later the two boys were hidden by the trees.

An hour later Taramingo came running back. Talota was scraping the deer hide before her lodge, Tsisqua beside her telling a story about her sister's sister-in-law to take Talota's mind off of her sons. When Taramingo raced to them, Talota screamed and ran frantically toward the falls. At her scream Menewa and several of the warriors rushed to Tsisqua's side to find the cause for the alarm. Taramingo told his story and the men rushed after Talota.

Talota reached the falls and hysterically dived into the deep water. The river water was so clear that the bottom was easily seen. Mingo's body was not visible. She surfaced and dived again. Beside her Menewa and several other men dived also. More ran up and down both sides of the river, searching for signs of the boy's body.

After several minutes Menewa dragged his sister from the river, holding her tightly to prevent her from going back into the water and drowning. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps and he could feel her heart pounding erratically. From her throat tore sounds that a dying bird would make. Menewa began to pull her away from the river's edge so she would not see when the boy's body was found.

Suddenly one of the warriors cried out and gestured for Menewa. Tsisqua had arrived and took Talota from her husband's arms. Menewa walked unsteadily to the place the warrior indicated. Mingo was very dear to the older man, more than a nephew, more like a son. Gritting his teeth so hard that they squeaked, Menewa looked where the warrior pointed. There were footprints. One set was large, larger than Taramingo's. And one set was small, small as Mingo's.

Menewa strode swiftly following Mingo's tracks. They led through the timber back toward the town. Calling Tsisqua, Menewa gestured for the two women to come nearer. Talota had to be supported strongly. She was shaking in fear and exhaustion. Menewa went to her side and showed her the footprints. She stared for several seconds, then collapsed into Menewa's arms. He lifted her and began to carry her back to the village. Tsisqua walked beside him, supporting Talota's head in her hands.

When they arrived in the village Taramingo was gone. Mingo had been given a bowl of hot broth and put into his bed in Talota's lodge. Tsisqua's sister was watching him sleep. He was badly scared and had taken water into his lungs. He had been shaking so hard with cold and fright that he couldn't explain what had happened to him. Taramingo was already gone when the boy wandered into the village crying for his mother.

Menewa's face was tight with rage and frustration. He laid his unconscious sister in her bed and leaned over his nephew. Mingo's little face was scraped and bruised. His arms, back, shoulders and little hands were also scraped and his fingernails seeped blood.

Menewa swallowed and stood. His eyes were hard and bitter as he pieced together the clues. This little boy had nearly been drowned by his older half-brother. Menewa had no doubt. The thought made his stomach churn and he swayed as he turned to look at his sister. Tsisqua had already undressed Talota and covered her warmly. They exchanged a silent look and Menewa left the cabin to get his weapons and follow his murderous nephew.

The trail led toward the land of the Creeks. Menewa followed only long enough to be certain. Then he sighed deeply in relief and sadness, standing alone as the moon began to rise full and white in the east. He walked back to his village slowly, hating the message that he must deliver to his sister.

Talota was awake and sitting beside her son's bed, his little hand cradled in both of hers. Her face was pale and her eyes were dark with grief. She knew. Menewa could see it in her face, her eyes. Compassion for his sister welled in his heart as he lightly laid his hand on her shoulder. She looked into his eyes for several seconds, then nodded and dropped her gaze to rest on Mingo's still little face.

"He is gone to the Creeks." It was not a question. Talota's voice was lifeless. She reached and arranged the hair on her son's forehead.

Menewa was silent for several minutes. He squeezed her shoulder and she let her head rest against his side. "Talota, it is best. You did everything that was possible to do for Taramingo. His heart is too full of hate. Your love could not displace it. I am sorry, sister. But this one, his heart is full of love for you. Let the brother go. It is what he wants. Perhaps this is as it was meant to be. Think of that, sister."

"Brother, the two will be enemies if we cannot hold the peace." Talota's voice was so quiet that Menewa could hardly hear her.

"There are enemies now, Talota. This one does not know it yet. Taramingo does."

Two tears silently coursed down Talota's cheeks. They dripped off her chin onto her dress making two separate stains. Menewa saw them and thought of his two nephews. He closed his eyes against the pain. Then he bent and softly kissed his sister's cheek, leaving her to sit through the night holding her son's cold limp hand.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Colonel Jeffers handed the official orders to John Murray. The lieutenant broke the seal and read the message. His face was carefully controlled and the colonel's curiosity was not to be satisfied. Raising his head Lieutenant Murray saluted the colonel and exited the tent.

Todd Maclean and Ben Travis looked at their commander questioningly as he strode past them. They exchanged a look of disgust and followed behind the lieutenant. When they arrived in the village Lieutenant Murray was already inside his Cherokee lodge. The two men pondered their options. They could wait to find out what the orders were. Or they could try to find out from Lieutenant Murray. They decided to wait.

Inside Talota's lodge John Murray sat silently with the orders in his hands. Mingo and Talota exchanged looks of alarm. The tall red-haired man obviously was disturbed about something. He suddenly rose, placed the papers underneath his red coat and strode under the bear hide back into the frosty autumn afternoon. Talota stood undecided for several minutes, then removed the papers and placed them in her son's slender hands. Mingo read for a short time, then raised his head to look into his mother's eyes.

"He is ordered to Williamsburg. That's on the other side of the mountains. He is to be there by the summer."

"Will he return, Mingo? Does the paper tell you that?"

Mingo read the papers carefully. "No mother, the papers do not tell that."

Talota nodded and replaced the papers. She took the bone needle in her hand and continued making the deerskin leggings for her son. Long ago she had learned not to trouble herself over what she could not change. Into her mind came the image of Taramingo as she last saw him, standing beside her after trying to kill his brother.

She thrust the image angrily away and concentrated on Mingo seated before her, telling another of his stories. He carefully wove the Greek story of Pygmalion into a Cherokee creation story, his nimble mind delighting in the process. She listened in spite of herself, intrigued by the idea of a man creating a stone woman and then falling in love with his cold creation.

Meanwhile John Murray was walking through the fallen leaves, his agitated mind flitting from one thought to another. The orders seemed to be his long-awaited chance for advancement. They were from the Ministry of War in London. In being ordered back to Williamsburg it seemed that after eight years in the territory his exile was about to be rescinded. If so, what should he do about Talota?

He could take her and Mingo back to London. But if he did that, he knew that they would never be accepted and he would be denied many of the privileges due him because of them. They would be the butt of jokes their entire life. Because of them, so would he.

To claim his rightful position he knew that he must keep his Cherokee family a secret. His chance of marrying a well-positioned English woman would be out of the question if their existence ever became known. He would forever be deemed tainted because of his relationship with an Indian woman.

He could leave them here. Menewa would care for them. Or Talota could remarry easily. Talota, The Singing Wind. Unexpectedly he felt a stab of grief at the thought of her with another man. He stood still in the frosty afternoon. As his heart continued to war with his expedient mind, John Murray stood bareheaded as the Kentucky leaves began to fall all around him. The air matched the coldness that began to creep into his heart as his mind calculated his options.

Months later, in early March, John Murray, Todd Maclean and Ben Travis loaded their pack mules and set out for the Virginia coast. Talota and Mingo stood outside their lodge and watched the tall red-haired man as he led the way into the late winter forest. Talota's eyes sparkled with tears and Mingo gripped her hand tightly.

John did not look back as he entered the forest. After several minutes mother and son reentered their lodge and continued their day. They pretended that John was only gone on a surveying expedition. Their pretense helped them as they supported each other in their fallacy.

John did halt and look back through the trees as his wife and son disappeared into the little lodge that he suddenly hated to leave. Shaking his head in disbelief he admitted to himself that he had not felt such turmoil leaving England, his parents, or Lavina Louise Wilson. But his future lay to the east. It was his past that he was leaving here in the west. With that thought he beckoned to his companions and with a determined stride plunged deeper into the Kentucky forest.

They were on Virginia's coast before the summer heat steamed through Williamsburg. Presenting themselves at the garrison, they were shown to their quarters and given a chance to bathe and change clothes before being fed a full English meal. To their amazement the three men found the roast goose, mashed potatoes and gravy, whipped turnips with butter, fresh buttered bread, pudding and mugs of ale far too heavy a meal. They exchanged embarrassed glances as they tried to choke down the food before them.

After a restless night brought on by indigestion and nerves, John Murray presented himself to the garrison's commander at the stroke of nine the following morning. The commander congratulated the young lieutenant on his appearance, the completion of his mission and the professionally prepared maps of the areas surveyed in the past eight years. Then he reached into his desk and smartly presented the tall man with his captain's epaulets.

Calling his orderly the colonel gestured for John Murray to remove his coat so the aide could attach the epaulets. Then gesturing to a comfortable chair the colonel invited his guest to seat himself. He extended a large crystal glass of sherry.

John closed his eyes and inhaled the delightful fragrance. He had not had any brandy or sherry for eight years. The first swallow stung his eyes, then the warmth trickled to his stomach and spread to his arms and legs. He smiled and leaned back in the padded chair. It was as if he had never walked over the mountains, known Talota, or fathered a son. He was on his way home.

Three years passed and Mingo was now nearly as tall as his mother. His uncle Menewa had begun teaching him the ways of a Cherokee warrior. Bright and attentive, Mingo was an apt pupil. He enjoyed being in the forest with his uncle and the love between the two grew stronger. Tsisqua continued childless and Menewa lavished all his loving attention on his eager nephew.

Talota made a buckskin shirt and trousers for her son, carefully fringed down the outside of both long legs and both long arms. His shining black hair was freshly braided each morning. His expression usually reflected his happy and loving disposition. The only sorrow in his life was his absent father. Mingo longed for the tall red-haired man. He was certain that the coldly critical man would now be proud of his son. Menewa often assured him that his skills were above average as a hunter, tracker and warrior.

Every night he sat and read aloud the Shakespeare plays, Greek myths or Arthurian legends left behind by his father. Talota listened as she cooked, shelled corn or worked on her beadwork. She had received a double handful of trader's beads and an iron pot from her brother's payment brought by the English colonel.

The beadwork was embellishing her son's new shirt. She worked proudly on the colorful design. The iron pot held twice the amount that a clay pot did and had the added advantage of being unbreakable. The only disadvantage was the sharp edge around the turned lip.

As the summer reached its zenith Mingo and his friends spent long hours swimming, catching fish and hunting. One day upon his return with a dozen fat fish he found his mother binding her hand where the sharp edge of the iron pot had cut her. He pulled the cloth tight and tied it carefully. She smiled her thanks and brushed the fringe of black hair off his forehead. He quickly cleaned the fish and they had a wonderful dinner of fish and fresh corn from the village cornfield.

That evening they lay naked on their beds in the humid Kentucky heat and told stories that Mingo remembered from his earliest days. Just before she fell asleep Talota asked him to tell the story about the rock sparkles, and she drifted away to the sound of her son's voice and dreamed about the rock waiting in the cool stream for her to find.

Her hand remained bandaged for two days, then she removed the wrapping and went about her usual daily chores. She and Tsisqua spent several days digging wild tubers along the nearby rivers and streams. Nearly two weeks later she noticed a stiffness in her neck and jaws. Days later when Tsisqua came to help her stake out the fresh deerhide from Mingo's kill Talota asked to be forgiven but she didn't feel like working on the hide. Her back hurt and she felt strange. She seemed unable to draw a deep breath.

Tsisqua looked at the young woman in alarm. She looked unusual, her facial muscles twitching uncontrollably. When the older woman touched Talota's arm the muscles quivered even though they felt hard like iron. Tsisqua helped her sister-in-law into bed and went to find a medicine man.

Mingo returned to the lodge late that afternoon. He and Menewa had gone to practice tracking and stalking a panther. When they entered Talota's lodge they were alarmed to find Tsisqua sitting by Talota's bed. Talota's face looked strange, the muscles quivering and jumping. Her jaws clenched and unclenched uncontrollably. Her hands were drawn into claws. Menewa clutched Tsisqua's shoulder and bade her rise to speak to him. They huddled together near the door.

Mingo pulled his mother's stiff hand into his own and began to tell her the story of the stone woman and the man who fell in love with her. It was one of her favorites and the boy's voice trembled in fear as he saw her eyelids spasm and her body twitch. Her breathing was labored and raspy in the silence of the cabin.

Menewa, Tsisqua and Mingo watched Talota slip away as the night deepened. The boy's hand never released his mother's and he could feel her muscles quiver and twitch. He told her the story of the rock sparkles over and over until his voice was hoarse from emotion and overuse. The helpless Cherokee doctor stood beside the open window to keep the Raven mocker from taking Talota's heart after her breathing ended.

In desperation Mingo dashed to the window, grabbed the speckled stone and placed it in his mother's clenched hand. Then once more he told the story of the sparkling rock as the gaps in his mother's ragged breathing grew more agonizingly long. Finally Talota's breath did not return and the hand gripped tightly in her son's spasmed no more. The speckled rock slipped from her lifeless hand.

Mingo sank to his knees beside her bed, the sobs tearing from his damaged throat. Menewa held his shoulder tightly, his own grief causing him to draw his breath in painful gasps. Tsisqua knelt beside the crying child and held his body against her own. The doctor began the death chant and soon other members of the family entered the lodge and added their voices.

The protective prayers were offered. The family wrapped Talota's body in her favorite trader blanket of yellow and white. Early in the morning Menewa, Tsisqua, Talota's other brother Awequa, his wife Ugidale, and Mingo, raised Talota's body into the peaceful blue of the late summer sky. They placed her sewing tools with her and hung the iron trader's pot from one of the support poles. Then Menewa gripped Mingo's shoulder and the adults left the boy alone with his grief.

When night fell Menewa returned with food for the shaking child. He wrapped the boy's body in a warm blanket and sat beside him, coaxing him to eat. After a few bites Mingo stopped eating and collapsed against his uncle, sobbing. Menewa's arms held him tightly and together they sat through the long and lonely darkness.

John Murray arrived the next day. The past three years had been years of advancement as he made all the right connections. His captain's epaulets were gone and in their place rested a major's insignia. While he was gone surveying in the colonies Lavina Louise Wilson had been married to one of his classmates. Relieved of that burden, he decided to delay marriage.

Through the years away from Talota Major Murray entertained himself in the company of many women. But always the memory of her remained fresh in his mind. She became all that was woman to him. Gentle, loving, caring, a laughing companion that chased away the darkness.

Finally he requested assignment to act as mapmaker and surveyor to the engineering corp that was improving the harbor at Charles Town. While there Major Murray received permission to travel back into the Kentucky interior. Though a curious request his superiors shrugged off the journey as the whim of a restless young man.

Menewa saw the tall man's red hair shining in the mid-day sun as he strode through the village. Rushing to meet him before the man could see his son, Menewa tried to explain what had occurred. Finally in desperation Menewa grasped the white man's arm and pulled him to Talota's scaffold. Reality finally registered on the ruddy white face as the shoulders slumped and the full lips fell open in shock. Menewa left him there and went to find Mingo.

The boy was sitting in the corner of Menewa's lodge, his face to the wall, his shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. He was carefully dressed in the buckskin shirt and trousers that Talota had recently made for him, his long slender fingers tracing the beadwork on the chest. Menewa's heart ached for the boy. He fervently hoped that the Englishman would comfort the grieving child and be the father that he so desperately needed now.

Taking Mingo's hand Menewa explained that his father was waiting for him at his mother's scaffold. Mingo's dark eyes registered doubt but Menewa assured him that he spoke the truth. Rising unsteadily the boy stumbled through his uncle's door and walked rapidly to his mother's scaffold. Menewa walked several paces behind the wounded boy. From that distance he saw Mingo stand before his father and put his arms around the tall man's waist. Sobs shook the slender boy's body.

Automatically John's arms wrapped around his son. Menewa could clearly see the other man's face. There was no emotion registering there. Angrily Menewa turned, his fists clenched as he fought the impulse to hit the other man. He held everything precious in his arms and could not see it. Behind him Menewa could hear Mingo's helpless sobs, but no word of comfort passed through the tall Englishman's full lips.

John Murray spent the night convincing Menewa that Mingo was his son to raise, not Menewa's. In broken Cherokee the Englishman claimed his son, and in broken English Menewa relinquished his hold. The next afternoon Mingo was taken from Menewa's lodge.

Dressed in a pair of trousers and a leather vest the boy stood beside his father and carefully controlled his emotions. His jaw was clenched and both hands were balled into fists as he fought his grief. His eyes were black with despair. Inside his uncle's lodge the boy left his mother's last gift, the soft beaded and fringed buckskin costume of a Cherokee child. Carefully clutched in his right hand was his mother's speckled rock.

Tsisqua and Menewa stood together and watched as their nephew followed the tall red-haired Englishman out of their village. Menewa understood the claim of blood that John Murray made upon Mingo. But in his heart he wondered if Talota would have wanted this. If she had been alive, would she have gone with John Murray to the far away land across the sea? Menewa left his wife's side and spent the remainder of the day beneath Talota's scaffold, trying to still his doubting heart.

As John Murray walked easily through the darkening Kentucky forest his mind was remembering Talota as he first saw her. Slim and beautiful, she had stood still as a statue in the blooming meadow with Taramingo beside her. Like Pygmalion he had created her for himself, and then fallen in love with his creation. Now that she was gone he could admit the love.

She had been a warm and attentive wife. She had cooked for him, washed for him, made him clothing, laughed with him, and given him a son with her raven black hair and large dark eyes. In the boy's face, in his eyes, in his tall slender body she lived. Never would he be able to look at his son and not see her.

John knew that no matter what he did from this point on, his heart could never escape from the Kentucky of his youth. His son would always be a reflection of that time. Major John Murray sighed and steeled himself for the long years to come. Behind him Talota's son walked silently, his world spinning in darkness as the first evening stars sparkled unnoticed above him.


End file.
